While crossing the bridge the four travelers see a shanty up ahead a little ways, it is small but looks like it has been kept up in good condition. Hal remembers the last time they came to a small dwelling like this the image of a tiny man crumbled on the ground spitting up blood and muttering incoherently to himself passes through his mind. Maybe they shouldn’t have taken the bridge.
“Should we see whose home?” asks Hobson with a hand over his shoulder making sure ‘traffic controll’, his over sized rocket launcher, is still there. Hal notices a slight smirk on Hobson as he asks the question, as if he is looking forward to the possible violence that could ensue.
“Could be something useful inside,” insists Nolan as he leans toward the entrance trying to peer inside to see what treasures may wait. His hand on the hilt of his newly acquired blade. This place could have an even greater prize.
“No,” Oren tries to end the notion of exploration “we know where we’re going and how to get there, plus we don’t need any supplies.” Hal can feel the desperation and guilt from Oren and remembers the pure shock on his face as Le Chuck fell to the ground a broken man the day before. Hal and Oren were alone in showing any signs of the previous day having any affect on their state of mind, Oren’s leg shaking slightly at the sight of this tiny building on the bridge and Hal’s fingers entwined in his belt loop, an old tick that helps ease his anxiety. Unlike Hal, Oren only watched the gory ordeal of yesterday. Oren doesn’t have to think about whether it was right of him to swing at Le Chuck, whether he himself set forth the chain of events that lead to Le Chuck’s death, the death of another person.
Hal wondered who was in the shack, were they friend or foe? Could they pass unnoticed, did they even want to try to pass at all, if they were noticed could the possible inhabitants be better armed than they were? The thought of a fifth person joining them on their journey to the north came to Hal, it might not be so horrible and contrary to Oren’s exclamation they weren’t really that well equipped. All they have is his golf club, his hidden revolver that he hasn’t revealed to the group yet, Nolan’s sword and Hobson’s rocket launcher, which wouldn’t do them much good in close quarters anyway. But is it worth the risk of knocking on the door?
The four of them stay where they are, watching the shack from a distance. Maybe Hal’s questions will be answered with someone exiting the shack. The others seem to be waiting on Hal’s input, he doesn’t remember volunteering for the position but he has become their leader in the short time they’ve been together.
A new thought comes to the surface of Hal’s mind, there could be a child inside, or even a whole family. There could Mother preparing dinner while Father and son sit on a small bed in the corner playing with hand-made toys. Would Nolan or Hobson hesitate to hurt them if they stood in their way? Hal realizes that he instinctually imagined a boy inside the shanty. He imagines the child as someone’s son. Hal had a son once.
He looks down at his feet and sees stains of Le Chuck’s blood on his shoes. Le Chuck in retrospect was no real danger to them at all; he just got too excited to have human contact again. He regrets the outcome from their encounter, and imagines how things could have happened, Le Chuck’s life still intact. Did Le Chuck have family? Is there a son walking around without a dad, in part due to Hal? He couldn’t live with himself if their encounter with who lives in here goes the same way their meeting with Le Chuck went. He sees the Mother and son left beaten in the middle of the room, so Nolan could get some gun or a book of matches or something. A mother’s eyes meet with her son as they lay in a pool of their own crimson blood, a memory Hal doesn’t need to revisit.
“We looking into this or not, there can’t be much of a threat in there, the place is too small” Nolan asks, bringing Hal back to the present. The fact that Nolan is assessing how much of threat they could be and who could win in a brawl doesn’t bode well with Hal’s sense of calm. Nolan’s already dismissed the idea of a peaceful encounter, and Hobson is smiling on looking to the small shanty with lust in his eyes, he’s eager to use that weapon on his back. Hobson’s threatened to use it twice in one day of traveling, how big, or small for that matter, does the threat need to be for him to actually use it? Is this how things have always been? Was there ever a time when people could trust each or not get violent over little things? Hal’s never known a world where trust was a possibility, only caution.
Hal didn’t want to be in this position, now determining the possible fate of whoever is in that small house, and the fate of the men in his group. He doesn’t trust Nolan or Hobson even to not hurt anyone who may be inside. If they go back around the other way they’ll lose too much daylight and it may be for nothing. Hal decides, and prays to a higher power he doesn’t believe in anymore that he makes the right decision.
“No, we pass by, quickly and hopefully unnoticed.”
While crossing the bridge the four travelers see a shanty up ahead a little ways, it is small but looks like it has been kept up in good condition. Hal remembers the last time they came to a small dwelling like this the image of a tiny man crumbled on the ground spitting up blood and muttering incoherently to himself passes through his mind. Maybe they shouldn’t have taken the bridge.
“Should we see whose home?” asks Hobson with a hand over his shoulder making sure ‘traffic controll’, his over sized rocket launcher, is still there. Hal notices a slight smirk on Hobson as he asks the question, as if he is looking forward to the possible violence that could ensue.
“Could be something useful inside,” insists Nolan as he leans toward the entrance trying to peer inside to see what treasures may wait. His hand on the hilt of his newly acquired blade. This place could have an even greater prize.
“No,” Oren tries to end the notion of exploration “we know where we’re going and how to get there, plus we don’t need any supplies.” Hal can feel the desperation and guilt from Oren and remembers the pure shock on his face as Le Chuck fell to the ground a broken man the day before. Hal and Oren were alone in showing any signs of the previous day having any affect on their state of mind, Oren’s leg shaking slightly at the sight of this tiny building on the bridge and Hal’s fingers entwined in his belt loop, an old tick that helps ease his anxiety. Unlike Hal, Oren only watched the gory ordeal of yesterday. Oren doesn’t have to think about whether it was right of him to swing at Le Chuck, whether he himself set forth the chain of events that lead to Le Chuck’s death, the death of another person.
Hal wondered who was in the shack, were they friend or foe? Could they pass unnoticed, did they even want to try to pass at all, if they were noticed could the possible inhabitants be better armed than they were? The thought of a fifth person joining them on their journey to the north came to Hal, it might not be so horrible and contrary to Oren’s exclamation they weren’t really that well equipped. All they have is his golf club, his hidden revolver that he hasn’t revealed to the group yet, Nolan’s sword and Hobson’s rocket launcher, which wouldn’t do them much good in close quarters anyway. But is it worth the risk of knocking on the door?
The four of them stay where they are, watching the shack from a distance. Maybe Hal’s questions will be answered with someone exiting the shack. The others seem to be waiting on Hal’s input, he doesn’t remember volunteering for the position but he has become their leader in the short time they’ve been together.
A new thought comes to the surface of Hal’s mind, there could be a child inside, or even a whole family. There could Mother preparing dinner while Father and son sit on a small bed in the corner playing with hand-made toys. Would Nolan or Hobson hesitate to hurt them if they stood in their way? Hal realizes that he instinctually imagined a boy inside the shanty. He imagines the child as someone’s son. Hal had a son once.
He looks down at his feet and sees stains of Le Chuck’s blood on his shoes. Le Chuck in retrospect was no real danger to them at all; he just got too excited to have human contact again. He regrets the outcome from their encounter, and imagines how things could have happened, Le Chuck’s life still intact. Did Le Chuck have family? Is there a son walking around without a dad, in part due to Hal? He couldn’t live with himself if their encounter with who lives in here goes the same way their meeting with Le Chuck went. He sees the Mother and son left beaten in the middle of the room, so Nolan could get some gun or a book of matches or something. A mother’s eyes meet with her son as they lay in a pool of their own crimson blood, a memory Hal doesn’t need to revisit.
“We looking into this or not, there can’t be much of a threat in there, the place is too small” Nolan asks, bringing Hal back to the present. The fact that Nolan is assessing how much of threat they could be and who could win in a brawl doesn’t bode well with Hal’s sense of calm. Nolan’s already dismissed the idea of a peaceful encounter, and Hobson is smiling on looking to the small shanty with lust in his eyes, he’s eager to use that weapon on his back. Hobson’s threatened to use it twice in one day of traveling, how big, or small for that matter, does the threat need to be for him to actually use it? Is this how things have always been? Was there ever a time when people could trust each or not get violent over little things? Hal’s never known a world where trust was a possibility, only caution.
Hal didn’t want to be in this position, now determining the possible fate of whoever is in that small house, and the fate of the men in his group. He doesn’t trust Nolan or Hobson even to not hurt anyone who may be inside. If they go back around the other way they’ll lose too much daylight and it may be for nothing. Hal decides, and prays to a higher power he doesn’t believe in anymore that he makes the right decision.
“No, we pass by, quickly and hopefully unnoticed.”